


In the Mood For You

by liroa15



Series: Soulmates 'verse [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-22 17:05:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11384574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liroa15/pseuds/liroa15
Summary: Connor's great at stealth dating. Mitch is not. Dylan just thinks this is all hilarious.





	In the Mood For You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shmorgas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shmorgas/gifts).



Mitch wakes to the sound of Connor’s alarm beeping insistently in his ear. He doesn’t even know why Connor set the damn thing because it’s an off day for all of them, and Mitch was definitely planning to sleep past 6 in the fucking morning.

“Turn that fucking thing off,” he mumbles into his pillow. When it continues beeping merrily—and it’s deeply unfair that a torture device like this one should sound so fucking happy—Mitch leans over to slap at it. He doesn’t get it, but he does catch Dylan in the face, which is almost as good.

“Fuck you,” Dylan grumbles, but he leans over and turns the stupid fucking alarm off. 

Mitch settles back into the warmth of their bed and tries to pull the blanket more firmly around himself. Unfortunately, Dylan’s pretty possessive when it comes to blankets and is unwilling to relinquish his part of the blanket for Mitch’s nest, which leads to a brief but very competitive tug-of-war.

Mitch wins because he hates losing and also because he pokes Dylan in the side repeatedly until the has to let go of the blanket to protect himself.

“You’re a dick,” Dylan grumbles rolling out of bed.

“You’re just mad you lost,” Mitch replies triumphantly from his blanket burrito.

Dylan flips him off as he heads towards the washroom. Mitch hears the shower turn on a minute later, but he’s content and still a little sleepy, so it doesn’t make much of an impression.

The next thing he knows, someone is trying to remove his blanket. He grabs at it, but it’s too late. “Time to get up, Mitchy,” Dylan sing-songs at him like the asshole that he is. Mitch flips him off and makes a grab for the blanket, but Dylan’s wise to his ways and keeps it out of reach.

“Connor made breakfast,” Dylan adds, like that’s supposed to be an enticement. Connor made disgusting protein shakes that Scary Gary insists are an important part of any training regimen, not breakfast. Mitch says as much.

Dylan just laughs.

“What’s going on in there?” Connor calls.

“Talking about how it’s lucky you’re pretty,” Dylan calls back.

“And good at hockey,” Connor adds, appearing in the doorway.

Mitch waves one hand in the air in the universal so-so motion and then makes a grab for the blanket while Dylan’s distracted by Connor’s appearance. It doesn’t work, and Mitch subsides with a pout.

“Come on,” Mitch whines when it becomes clear that Connor’s just going to stand there and laugh at them. “We don’t even have anything to do today.” 

Connor smirks at that. “Move your ass, Mitchell,” he says. “Just because we don’t have anything to do today doesn’t mean I don’t have plans.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Mitch bitches as he rolls off the bed and heads towards the bathroom. “Just so you know, I hate you, and I’m trading you both in for a couple of soulmates who let me sleep in.” 

“You’d fucking miss us,” Dylan calls just before Mitch turns on the shower. The bitch of the thing is that he really, really would.

Mitch emerges from the shower and grabs a pair of old Knights sweats that barely fit. He finds both Dylan and Connor in the kitchen, arguing over something in quiet tones. “So why do I need to be up at the asscrack of dawn on my day off?” Mitch demands, heading directly to the coffee pot.

Connor puts a plate with an omelet in front of him as soon as Mitch settles onto his barstool at their kitchen island. 

“You’ll find out,” Connor promises, pressing a kiss to Mitch’s temple. “Now eat your damn food.”

After Mitch finishes his surprisingly edible omelet—none of them will be trying out for MasterChef any time soon, that’s for sure—Connor hustles him off to change even though Mitch protests that he was planning on spending all day playing COD.

“Better to just go along with him,” Dylan calls from where he’s still sitting at the kitchen island. Mitch flips him off again because Dyls deserves it.

“Where are we going, Connor?” Mitch demands, putting his ‘guards on. 

“You’ll see,” Connor responds because Connor is also a dick.

They end up at a farmers’ market because Connor is secretly a hipster at heart. Mitch doesn’t care half as much about organic produce and quinoa as he should, but Connor seems really into this, so Mitch is content to follow him from stall to stall while he fondles vegetables or whatever.

Dylan disappears for a while and comes back with a tray of organic, fair trade coffees, or whatever they sell at farmers’ markets, officially making him Mitch’s favourite.

Eventually Connor finds everything he wants, or else he’s afraid that Dylan and Mitch are two minutes away from causing a national incident, because he heads back to the car and deposits everything in the trunk.

“Now can we go play COD?” Mitch whines, climbing into the passenger’s seat after winning an epic rock-paper-scissors battle with Dylan for the honour. 

“No,” Connor replies, checking his huge-ass watch that someone probably pays him a lot of money to wear. It looks bizarre with his ‘guards.

“Davo’s got a whole plan,” Dylan says from the backseat. “You might as well just go with it, bud.”

Mitch rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t demand any more information. He’ll let them have their secrets. (He does Snap Matts a selfie with the caption _help im being kidnapped_ , but Matts doesn’t even bother replying. Which, rude.)

They end up at a movie theatre for a matinee show, some rom-com about soulmates meeting for first time Mitch will deny ever wanting to see to his dying breath, but he actually really wants to see. Davo’s already bought the tickets on his phone, so they just head in. Dylan stops for popcorn with extra butter, despite Connor’s judging.

Mitch ends up wedged between his soulmates in a mostly empty theatre, stealing handfuls of popcorn from Dylan’s bag while Connor shoots them judging looks out of the corner of his eye. The movie is actually pretty terrible, but the soulmates get their happily ever after, which is really all that matters. 

By the time they leave the theatre, it’s the middle of the afternoon, and there are a lot more people around. Connor pulls his Oilers snapback low, like it makes him less recognizable in fucking Toronto where no one’s an Oilers fan, and hustles back to the car. Mitch and Dylan follow at a slower pace. Mitch gets stopped a couple times for pictures or autographs, but it’s mostly kids so he doesn’t mind too much. Dylan makes hilarious faces at him every time it happens, part surprise Mitch is famous enough to actually get stopped and part outrage that no one is asking him for his autograph.

Connor’s leaning up against his Range Rover when they finally make it back, like he thinks it makes him cool instead of look like a giant fucking dork. Mitch loses rock-paper-scissors this time, so he ends up relegated to the back, which mostly means he has to listen to Dylan’s shitty taste in music.

“So… where to now?” Mitch demands, even though he’s not really expecting an answer.

Which is good because he doesn’t get one. 

They end up stopping at the LCBO closest to Connor’s apartment. Dylan runs in and comes out a few minutes later with a brown paper bag. “They fucking carded me,” he bitches.

“Should have sent McJesus,” Mitch says with a grin. “Everyone already knows his birthday.”

Connor flips him off in the rear-view mirror, but it does nothing to diminish Mitch’s grin. He’s got no fucking idea what’s going on, but that doesn’t stop this from being the most fun he’s had in weeks.

They end up back at Connor’s place, their place really. Mitch and Dylan both immediately start up COD. Connor heads towards the kitchen, probably looking for a snack or something since he refused to eat any of their popcorn. 

Mitch lets himself get lost in the game. Dylan is actually pretty good at it, unlike Matts, who’s fucking awful. They manage to finish their campaign and only die once. 

Connor’s not waiting for his turn though, which is downright strange. “Davo?” Mitch calls.

“I’ve got it all under control,” Connor calls back, and it’s only then that Mitch notices the smoke coming out of the kitchen.

“You need some help there, bud?” Mitch asks because he has no idea what Connor is even doing.

“No!” Connor shouts, which is fucking weird. Mitch looks over at Dylan, who clearly has some idea of what’s going on because he’s grinning. 

His head appears in the doorway about ten minutes later, and he looks pissed off. “I think we’re having Chinese for dinner,” he grumbles and flops down on the sofa next to Mitch. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Dylan replies before Mitch can say anything. “I’ll call the Chinese place. You play some COD against Mitchy.”

“I just wanted it to be nice,” Connor complains, picking up the controller. 

Mitch has the sinking suspicion that he’s definitely missing something, but he can only give the puzzle half his attention since the other half has to be reserved for making sure Connor doesn’t die in COD. He’s not Matts-level bad, but he’s nowhere near as good as Dylan or Mitch himself.

It’s not until Connor dies and throws his controller down in disgust that Mitch finally puts it together. “It was a date!” he exclaims. Connor looks at him.

“Told you that you were being too subtle for Marns,” Dylan all but crows. “Chinese should be here in like 45 minutes to an hour, be tee dubs.”

Connor wrinkles his nose. “Please never say that again, Dyls.”

Mitch, however, is not going to be so easily distracted. He thinks about their day so far, about Connor making breakfast, and the farmers’ market, and the movie, and then Connor trying to make dinner for them, and he can’t stop smiling. Connor’s ridiculous, but he’s also ridiculous adorable.

“Sorry, Mitch,” Connor offers after a moment’s awkward silence.

“Davo’s like the king of stealth dating,” Dylan offers, picking up the controller. “Now reboot your damn brain because I’m about to whoop your ass at Chel.”

Mitch and Dylan play Chel while Connor chirps them both until their Chinese arrives. Connor pays for it, and then takes it all to the kitchen to dish it up. Dylan practically drags Mitch there as soon as he wins yet another game of Chel.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mitch grumbles, but when they get to the kitchen, Connor’s laid everything out like a scene from a movie. There’s even fucking candles on the kitchen island.

“This is next level wooing,” Mitch mumbles.

“Davo doesn’t do anything by halves,” Dylan agrees, sitting down and digging into one of the plates.

Connor slaps him on the back of the head and starts pouring wine into honest to God wine glasses like real adults.

“Can we eat now?” Dylan demands grumpily. 

“Yeah,” Connor agrees. 

The next twenty or so minutes are pretty much exclusively devoted to consuming as much Chinese food as possible, especially the little dumplings Mitch can never remember the name of. 

It’s only after they’ve consumed pretty much everything Dylan ordered that they take their wine glasses, which Connor must be taking his cues from the rom-coms he claims he doesn’t like because he would have been better off with a six-pack of Bud, to the living room and turn on a movie.

Dylan chooses some action movie Mitch has never even heard of with a lot of explosions. Mitch gives it about half his attention while he plots. About halfway through the movie, he gets up and heads towards their bedroom. Dylan shoots him a questioning look, but Mitch just grins at him. 

It’s a little bit awkward stuffing condoms and lube into the pockets of his shorts, but whatever. Mitch has done worse things without the prospect of sex at the end. 

He settles back on the couch between Connor and Dylan like nothing’s going on and tries to pay attention to the movie, but it’s a lost cause. By the time the movie ends, Mitch is hopelessly lost. Dylan starts talking about his favourite parts of the movie, and Connor actually answers him, which makes him a better man than Mitch.

Neither of them seem to notice Mitch getting up and going to get a drink of water from the kitchen. He fucks around filling up Connor’s stupid water pitcher for a couple of minutes, trying to work up the courage to go out there and blow Connor.

In the end, it’s the thought that Connor or Dylan are going to come looking for him at any moment that drives Mitch back into the living room. Connor and Dylan are still debating some plot point of the movie rather heatedly, but Connor spares a second to shoot him a smile.

Instead of settling back on the couch between Dylan and Connor, Mitch settles himself between Connor’s knees. The conversation stalls for a second but picks back up when Mitch doesn’t immediately do anything else. 

And that’s when Mitch makes his move. Connor’s wearing some sort of terrible khaki shorts that are almost impossible to get into, but Mitch is nothing if not creative (just ask Leafs PR, no actually that’s a terrible idea) and he manages it. When he finally meets Connor’s eyes, he looks a little stunned. He’s halfway hard already though, so Mitch decides to go for it.

It’s not like he’s given a lot of blowjobs in his life, but he has watched a fair amount of porn, and he does know how to read Connor’s face. He doesn’t try to take Connor’s dick all the way down, instead using his hand to cover the part he can’t fit in his mouth.

“Looks like Mitchy puts out on the first date,” Dylan crows and then whines when Connor hits him.

Mitch pulls off of Connor’s dick long enough to say, “There’s lube in my pocket, Dyls. Why don’t you make yourself useful?”

Dylan makes a punched-out noise that Mitch hopes he hears a lot more in the near future and falls the floor with a heavy thud. He makes sure to grope Mitch through the soft material of his shorts before he grabs the lube and pushes Mitch’s shorts and underwear down to pool around his knees. 

“Fuck,” Connor moans, staring down at the both of them. His fingers clench in Mitch’s hair, pulling him closer. Mitch almost chokes, and Connor lets him go with an apologetic pet. “You have no clue how hot the two of you look,” Connor mumbles, putting his hands on either side of him. 

Mitch doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t like that. There was something intimate about Connor’s hands in his hair that he wants. He must make some kind of noise because Connor sets his hands back on Mitch’s head, just guiding this time. Mitch moves the hand he had around Connor’s dick to his thigh to keep his balance.

“You ready, Mitchy?” Dylan asks, popping the cap on the lube. Mitch pulls back far to mumble an affirmative, and then mostly mouths at the head of Connor’s dick while Dylan opens him up with one and then two fingers.

Connor keeps up a steady stream of porn-worthy commentary because apparently there are hidden depths to the Next One. Mitch is pretty content to keep them to himself, honestly.

“Condom?” Dylan asks, adding a third finger. Mitch pulls back, but the sensations are so overwhelming that it takes him a second to answer. “Other pocket,” he manages to force out. Dylan grabs them with a laugh. 

“Look at you,” Connor says, leaning forward so he can card his fingers through Mitch’s hair. “Look at how fucking perfect you are. So perfect for me, so perfect for Dyls.”

Mitch is trying to figure out some sort of response, but the sound of the condom wrapper being ripped open distracts him. And then Dylan is pushing his way in, so slowly that Mitch wants to scream. He buries his face in Connor’s thigh, and Connor’s fingers tighten in his hair again, not enough to really hurt but enough to remind Mitch he’s there. Mitch lets out a little whimper at that. 

“He likes that,” Dylan notes as he bottoms out. Mitch is pleased that he sounds like he’s been doing sprints. “Fuck, you’re tight, Marns,” Dylan adds. 

“ _Dyls_ ,” Connor warns, drawing Mitch’s head away from his thigh and back to his hard dick. Mitch mouths at it, but he’s pretty ineffectual when it comes to an actual blowjob. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Dylan mumbles, squeezing at Mitch’s hip in apology.

“Just fucking fuck me already,” Mitch grunts out, turning his attention back to Connor’s dick. 

Dylan doesn’t bother replying; he just picks up his pace so that his dick is dragging over Mitch’s prostate every second or third stroke. It’s not enough to make him come, but Mitch doesn’t have the hands for a reach around.

“Let Davo fuck your mouth, huh Mitchy?” Dylan says, and Mitch nods and opens his mouth. Connor doesn’t go so deep that Mitch chokes, but he goes deeper than Mitch was on his own. 

Stuck between the two of them, Mitch can feel the arousal building in the pit of his stomach. He wants to squirm, or to reach down to jerk himself off hard and quick, but he doesn’t have the hands or anywhere to go.

Connor pulls back and comes over Mitch’s face. 

“Look at your pretty face,” Connor croons, dragging his thumb across Mitch’s lips, rubbing his come in. It’s way dirtier than Mitch ever thought Connor would be, and he likes it. A lot. 

Dylan grunts and finally, finally, _finally_ reaches around and starts jerking Mitch off. It doesn’t take long for Mitch to come. He lets his weight lean on Connor’s thighs until Dylan comes a couple minutes later.

“Fuck,” Dylan swears. “Your ass is so perfect, Mitchy,” he mumbles.

“All right,” Connor says after a moment. “Showers and then bed.”

“I think I like Mitch’s idea of a date better than yours, Davo,” Dylan says, forcing himself to his feet. Between the two of them, they help Mitch to his feet. He kicks his shorts to the side.

“Your knees okay?” Connor asks, and they’re a little sore, but not bad. Mitch just nods. They all head toward the bathroom—Dylan stops to dispose of the condom—and Connor actually climbs into the shower with Mitch and washes his hair. 

Even though it’s pretty early, Connor herds them all to bed. Mitch is already half asleep. “Training tomorrow,” Connor mumbles, setting his alarms.

Dylan grumbles as he brackets Mitch in. “Yeah, yeah,” he agrees. “Pretty fucking good day, Davo.”

“Pretty fucking good day, Dyls,” Connor agrees, pressing a kiss to Mitch’s forehead.

Mitch falls asleep between the two of them, a smile on his face.

Pretty fucking good day indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> So when I started writing my gift fic for the challenge, I didn't end up including everything I wanted to. This is an outtake that I couldn't manage to make fit into the flow of Feels Like Home. I hope you enjoy it.


End file.
